


Saturated Shadows

by Fushiko



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Harm, Slow Build, Suffering, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, Unhealthy Relationships, more like hurt/very little comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-02-14 03:37:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12999027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fushiko/pseuds/Fushiko
Summary: Tsukishima is hit with a surreal sense of oncoming dread that grows only worse as seconds pass him feverishly, the flurry of missing moments leading him to heartbreak. (Trigger Warning)





	1. Let Go

Cheap fluorescent lighting buzzed overhead a bit too loudly to go completely unnoticed by Tsukishima underneath the humming vibrations of the refrigerator compartments lining the dairy and frozen sections of the grocery store. However, Tsukishima speculated that perhaps he was the only one in the vicinity that was bothered by the ringing in the air. He couldn't hear anything besides the high-pitched drone of lights —or rather, his own thoughts murmuring into incoherent noise— no matter how much he attempted to focus on any other noise. It simply continued to overwrite anything else. The sound caught him in a trance, leaving him to stare unfocused concentration up at the blinding illumination until his eyes were filled with differencing spots no matter how much he attempted to blink them away. It felt as if he'd been standing there for hours, or as if time hadn't moved at all. His eyebrows knotted at the building dread forming itself into the pit of his stomach. Sending trills of disquietude to bloom an unnerving sensation of unease in his instinctual gut feeling. 

 

Though just as time had collapsed into a standstill for him, it began once more just as quickly as it had aroused. His attention snapped out of the overall haze of unthinking overthought when a woman pushing a cart with a faulty wheel screeched pass him. A repetitive offkey rhythm of the wheel tracking forward merely to spin around with the resounding whistling din following the off tracks rotation. 

 

Standing there in a state of stunned indifference he directed his gaze back to the mission at hand, staring uncertainty at the chicken-scratch handwriting on the list of necessities he had previously collected before gathering his attention back towards his current task. His gaze wandered back and forth, scanning the contents of the freezers for the item, in particular, he was searching for. When just as he turned to stare at the glass door in front of him he was struck with a feeling of forlorn at himself by the fact that the deluxe box of Garigari-kun soda popsicles he'd been looking for had been directly in front of him this entire time he'd just been standing here. 

 

With a huff at his own inability to find something so simple, he hooked his fingers around the door's handle and got the last item he needed in order to head home. Though he was in no particular mood to hurry home, being that all that waited for him was his grumpy other half and a dirty kitchen to clean and then make dirty once again. But the bubbling apprehension fizzling within him had him on edge. The sensation encouraging him to make quick work of getting out of the rows of shelves and aisles to get to the checkout section as swiftly as the mass of people lining up for the exact same reason would allow. 

 

Tsukishima hummed dissatisfaction at the fact that there was currently only one register open, but knew it was partly his own fault for ending in this situation in the first place since he'd come shopping a hairs breath from a half an hour before closing time. Though there hadn't been any other time he had to spare in the day for shopping so the wait was better than getting nothing at all. 

 

The cycle of beeping signifying yet another object being rung up and the shuffling of moving feet sliding the few steps closer to the register carried a misconstrued tone to follow the still buzzing lights. That merely aided in his anxiety rising as each minute passed. His nerves were twitching with hypersensitivity. It felt as if something bad was lurking around the corner, but by all means, there wasn't a single thing amiss around him, simply shrouded in the lame rotation of mediocre and mundane recycled motion. And as much as he continued to repeat a mantra of reasonability into his unfounded nervousness it did nothing but send tiny intervals of tingling spasms into the joints of his fingers and a persistent tap to his foot against the linoleum. 

 

He stood like that, occasionally remembering to take a step forward to catch up to the front of the line until movements passed like blurred after images. He was at the register quicker than realized, merely to be stuck staring worry at the screen displaying the cost of his purchases. As the number kept rising so did his concern. Tsukishima grew unsure if he had the right amount to obtain everything he needed. Not all of it was necessary—like the popsicles for instance—but it was always so embarrassing not being able to afford everything he'd went through the trouble to grab. Especially when there was a swarm of irritated looking people waiting impatiently behind him. And just as the last carton of milk was dragged across the scanner with an ear piercing ding of finality, a weight was then lifted from his shoulders at the sight of the numbers not going—if only barely—over his current balance.

 

“That’ll be ¥2,370, please.” The greasy but kind clerk called out and a timid smile hiding the soft release of relief left his lips.Making quick work of finding his wallet and paying for his groceries, he awkwardly captured the handles of each plastic bag to work all eight of them in his arms. The weight wasn't an issue, rather, he was more concerned with the threat of them tearing on his way home. As he walked out he had to rearrange the bags multiple times since the ones captured in the crook of his elbows were starting to cut off circulation. Though, luckily he lived close by so he wouldn't have to deal with the bother for too much longer. 

 

The city wasn't as quiet as he had been hoping and did little to nothing to relax his instinctual tension from the high raised stiffness of his shoulders. Every step taken was just the slightest bit quicker than the previous one. By the time he managed to arrive at his block he was speed walking his way down the dimly lit street. 

 

A clenching feeling of paranoia had him looking over his shoulder more times than he knew was reasonable. However the bad feeling had only heightened the closer he got home. Tsukishima's heart was beating against his chest like rapid fire by the time he reached the steps of his quaint apartment building. Fortunately, the weight along the line of his spine eased with the notion of soon being home safe.

As he fished out his keys with what little mobility he had, he considered why he could be so anxious. It wasn't like him to feel this fidgety without a logical reason, but despite it's lack of rationale he trusted his gut feeling. 

 

Once he finally found his keys and shimmed the lock open he could feel all of his muscles give into relaxation of finally being out of the danger that was being outside; even if he didn't know the real reason why. 

 

Discarding the bags onto the floor with the crinkle and shifting of the plastic, he began to take of his shoes. "I'm home." He declared to the empty darkness of the living room. Once his shoes were off he took a moment to stare into the living room, contemplating whether Roppi had gone to sleep already without eating. It wasn't far fetched, he had seemed exhausted earlier today, but he usually waited for Tsuki to return, if only for him to prepare dinner if not anything else. 

 

Grabbing at the handles of the grocery bags he walked towards the kitchen. But just as he was passing the threshold of the hallway he stopped. His eyebrows furrowed and his pulse quickened as he sniffed the air. The scent of metallic copper lingered with the draft down the corridor, reaching him with the force of a shock wave. The bags in his hands fell with a thud against the hardwood flooring but he couldn't hear anything above the pounding of his heart in his ears. His legs moved faster than his breathing did. The air stuck in his chest with that unnatural smell clinging inside his lungs to burn the memory in with the lack of oxygen. He could feel the vibrations of his movements as he ran down the hallway more than he was actually experiencing them. Everything was shrouded in a filter of darkness, he felt blinded as he raced towards the source of the scent still surrounding him, he could taste it on his tongue as he reached for the bathroom door and gasped out a scream of the name that taste belongs to. 

 

The door flashed open too quickly for him to actually comprehend, not when he couldn't even manage to breath in that moment, not when he couldn't blink, not when he couldn't even feel his heartbeat in that moment. 

 

His blurred vision could barely manage to capture the sight of the dark silhouette draped lifelessly still over the stark white rim of the bathtub. In contempt of the lack of lighting he could see the faint glow of red shimmer off the reflection of the moonlight seeping in from the window onto the pool of water filled to the brim within the bathtub. There was a moment, a second of pause, where all he waited for was the sound of a breath, the twitch of a finger or the flash of those dark eyes catching light. But there wasn't movement, only still, suffocating, blinding nothingness that filled him with nothing but a building ache blooming from his chest and stretching every expanse of his body as he finally forced his shock encased body to move forward. 

 

"No..." He choked out, hesitating a step before the next and the next followed in quick rushed secessions to match and emphasize each plea that left his lips. "No, no, nonononono..!" He couldn't feel the stem of pain shooting up his legs when he fell to his knees. He couldn't feel anything besides the encroaching devastation that was closing his throat, burning his eyes, trembling his limbs. "Ro-Roppi!" His hands hovered over the fabric of the other's shirt, scared—terrified—that the only thing he'll sense when he touches him is the chill coldness that painted his skin a pallor white. But the fear vanished as soon as it came because he needed him, he needed to feel him. So with that he reached around the arch of Roppi's waist to bring him away from the tub and into his unsteady arms to lay him against his chest. 

 

A sob ripped through him before he even knew he was crying, tears spread down his face as his fingers skimmed across Roppi cheek. He pulled away suddenly, taken aback by the heat still lingering across his skin. A nauseating pull of hope fluttering like insects inside him. "Roppi. Roppi wake up!" His hand hurried to the crook of his neck, ignoring the pang that unfurled at the sight of his head rolling limply onto his shoulder as he pressed two fingers against the curve of a pulse point. 

  
  


His own frantic heartbeat was all to be heard, his breathing nonexistent in this moment and his body stock still. 

 

Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing nothing!

 

His fingers were cramping as he pressed down further, waiting for anything, anything at all that meant what was crawling up his throat was wrong. Because this couldn't be happening, this wasn't happening! 

 

They were fine! 

 

He was fine. 

 

He said he was fine…

 

The smallest of a flutter patterned across his fingers and Tsukishima gasped a shuddered cry, praying he hadn't imagined it. 

 

But despite it possibly being only in his head, his hand didn't hesitate to reach into his pocket and retrieve his phone. His fingers were a trembling mess, though, even still he had never type a number so fast in his life. However, getting the phone to his ear was a challenge in its own right. His chest tightened at the seconds passed while the first tone rang, but a voice was responding on the other end a breath later. "Hello, what's your emergency?" A woman's voice asked, calm and collected, a complete contrast to his shaken consciousness. 

 

"Ple-please my-Roppi-he's—” His voice was choppy and disorganized. “Ambulance!” His head was bombarded with vertigo as he tried to stop himself from choking on sobs. "He-he's still alive, ple-please, he needs an ambulance!" 

 

"Sir, please tell me your address, and I'll send one right away." The voice came only slightly more harsh than before. Tsukishima tried to snap himself out of his stupor. Swallowing his overflowing emotions, he quickly named of their street address. “Please stay in the line, sir, until an ambulance arrives. They will…” that was all he barely heard before the phone slid out of his hand and catered onto the tile. Lungs trimble at the first inhale of air ripping through him. Everything inside him is curling in on itself, like a dry leaf. His arms move to down his lap slowly before he swiftly regathers himself and snatches Roppi’s bleeding wrists in his hands. Fingers squeezing as hard as possible without breaking the thin bones within. 

 

They stay still like that for a countless amount of time. Tsukishima’s tears had began to collect in the sullen crevices of Roppi’s features as he held onto every last faint heartbeat. Entrapped in a muscle shaking, jaw locking, hyperventilating state, whispering apologetic and encouraging words between every exhale he gasped out. Roppi’s blue rimmed lips quivered a movement and Tsukishima's trembling ceased. the living room entrance suddenly slammed open with urgency in the other room. Flashes of light flickered in a strobe manner as heavy footfalls echoed through the hallway. Hasty presences halted at the bathroom door and stark white flashlights hissed burning in his tear stained eyes. More light just as quickly absorbed the room and people began to crowd around them. All he could do was stare as they ushered him away, somehow managing to lift him from his knees and onto his aching legs. A woman with sympathy glittering her wide eyes gestured him away. He hesitates as step, eyes distracted with the glossy red stain saturating his hands, before he stops completely. Looking down is a slow process that comes in a sequence of blurred motions. He watches distantly as trained professionals that he knows he should trust are hovering over Hachimenroppi’s form. He's lightly forced away from the scene by a gentle though firm hand. 

 

_ No. _

 

_ They're taking him away. _

 

_ No. _

 

_ No, they can't! _

 

_ What if..! _

 

_ What if I never get to say good bye. _

 


	2. Last Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three is a pattern, and he just lost his last chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here it is as requested. I'm glad that I got so many positive reviews, thank you all so much! I hope you enjoy the continuation.

Before he could even consider opening his eyelids to the stark brightness surrounding them, there is a sharp pain ringing feverishly throughout his skull. It is a nauseating sensation that reverberates from every joint in his body and screams torment to his nerves. He distantly suspects that the insistent buzz blaring in his ears is the only reason he's floating to cognizance. Especially when his body feels near cessation despite his consciousness steadily floating to the surface. However alert, Hachimenroppi refuses nonetheless to make his wakefulness known.

 

Instead, his fingers stretch and fumble between stiffened sheets, a failed attempt at getting some kind of tactile idea of where he is without betraying his lack of presence. The fabric between his fingers shortfall the luxury of plump softness he's familiar to. Just as confusion begins to manifest across his face his ears resume their function in the proper sense rather than being available to hear only his distant blurred thoughts. There's a mere second of hushed silence that settles a false sense of relief to ease his tension. Only for dread to burrow deep within him at the piercing noise of a beep that coincides too well with the thrum of his heartbeat.

 

He isn’t foolish enough to coddle himself into a corner of denial and pretends he doesn’t know exactly where he is. The sterile smell lingering in the air, the stiff scratchy feel of medical linens clingy to him, and not to mention the uncomfortable tube feeding into his arm. Waking up in a hospital was not according to his plan, in fact, waking up at all was the exact opposite of what he had in mind. But he couldn't find it in himself to be upset. How could he fester with ornery when he knows exactly who’s responsible for his revivification from the brink of death. In contempt of his despair, Roppi simply could not resent Tsukishima’s actions even if it only brought him more anguish.

 

Even as awareness facilely poured into his clouded haze of thoughts, he was apprehensive to open his eyes. There was yet to be confirmation of if he was alone or not and Roppi wasn’t prepared to risk it. He couldn’t see Tsukishima right now, not like this. He was terribly afraid to confront him after the no doubt devastation he’d put him through. It was selfish of him, he knew that, but the fear increasing inside him was consuming him to the extent that cowardice was the least of his concerns. It seemed illogical that someone who wasn’t afraid of death itself would cower in the shadow of honesty. Yet, here he was, too afraid to face the truth of what his deplorable actions have caused in the reality of things.

 

But he just couldn’t do it, not yet. Simply imagining the expression of utter hurt and disappointment on the other’s face was enough to burn the back of his eyes with shame. Tsukishima has always been the type to blame himself, and as much as Roppi has pleaded with him to not think that way, he could see that the unwarranted guilt still weighed him down into the docile caregiver he’s become. So if Hachimenroppi forced himself to accept his brutal reality, open his eyes and look up at the face of heartbreak, he still couldn’t get past the self-blame that is no doubt befalling his lover.

 

It was suffering he deserves, but his selfish nature continuously won over any form of compassion and empathy his sordid egotistical heart could spare.

 

And thus he lay here; over-sleep irritating the corners of his eyes, tightly wound bandages clinging uncomfortably to open wounds lining his arms, and the building disquietude of knowing nothing of his surroundings to devour his thoughts. He laid there, impossibly still for an innumerable collection of hours. The only indication that time was proceeding beyond him was the shifting shadows from the sun masking the once illuminated room into a dusk sullen abyss of unknowing. And yet, as time made itself known the ache of his muscles and the area around him, not a sound was heard in his vicinity. Several hours back he'd considered the fact that his facade was perhaps being played out in vain. However, the memories of Tsukishima’s practiced quiescence over the years marched along the forefront of his mind. Its likelihood was slim in this particular situation, though, the slightest prospect of potentiality was already exceeded his limits of capabilities.

 

Just as his forearms were beginning to fall numb, and the crook in his neck tensed to an ache, a feather-light caress of fingers appeared on the open palm of his left hand. It took every fiber of Roppi’s being not to flinch and pull away, and he was thankful that the twitch that sparked into his fingertips went ignored. However, in the end, he still gives himself away, his chest was jittering with instability, it's activity spiking his heart rate into an off rhythm of its previous shrieking melody. Damn his traitorous heart. The delicate trace of fingers stilled, an abundant amount of fabric lightly shuffling to the sounds of bodily activity. Roppi cursed at presumably Tsukishima’s inept observational skills making a rare appearance at such an inconvenient moment.

 

“Ro-Roppi…?” A small voice that rang with the hoarse after tones of sobbing questioned with underlying surprise perking the intonation of his name. A palm against his own replaced the gentle stroke of fingers, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to contain himself with so many variables snatching away his resolve. “Roppi-san,” said man’s eyelid twitches in response and he inwardly curses his micro-expressions for betraying his own hoax to his outside audience before he had the chance to properly rehearse.

 

“It's okay, you can wake up, everything is going to be okay.” The affable reassurance in the soft curve of that melodious voice was too much for him to bare. Before he knew it, Hachimenroppi’s entire face contorted on the sickening emotions such sweet words evoked from him. He pulled his hand away from the careful grip with a harshness that was completely unprovoked, but as his eyes screwed up tighter in the refusal to allow painful tears to shed he couldn't help but bring every part of him away from the source of his grievance.

 

“Th-that's not true..!” Roppi blurted between the hiccuping breath trapped within his throat. Eyes squinting open a sliver to look down desperately at the evidence of his wrongdoings, merely to regret the decision and avert them to the desolate sheets. “God… this is- this is all so wrong. Why couldn't… why couldn't you…” Each word was choked out between uneven inhales, lapsing over sounds shaped like sobs that clouded yet did not delude their meaning. Tensing fingers gripped over layers of gauze, fingernails pinching in deeper as he cradled his arms to his chest.

 

“it's-it's okay, calm down… Just breathe, please!” Tsukishima requested with desperation hanging on to every word as he stood from the chair he had been resting in moments ago. Blankets falling and pouring to the floor, he didn't hesitate to step over them to make haste to Roppi’s side. However, just as the natural habit to physically comfort the fragile embodiment of undeserving overcame Tsuki, his intentions were stalled midway to pause hesitantly in the air as gestures of rejection waved his touch away.

 

“Please, don't…” Roppi spoke into the loose hug he had around himself, knees bunching closer to his chest as if the tighter he bent into himself the more likely he was to disappear. Tsukishima merely stood, not knowing what to do or what he could possibly say to make things better. Fuming with despair, Roppi’s eyes stared at the floor beside his hospital bed, desperately wanting nothing but to be alone. He felt completely exposed and vulnerable as if Tsuki could see into him. He knew the other was confused and most likely hurt, but he couldn't explain himself, not right now.

 

Thoughts jumbled and drowning each other out, only one loud enough to reach him. He can't tell Tsuki anything. If he knows it will only hurt him. He has to protect him. That's all he's ever wanted to do, so he just…

 

“Just leave me alone.”

 

His words came out colder than intended, and as he spoke them he didn't miss the flinch along Tsukishima’s shoulders in the corner of his sight. The blonde shuttered a breath as he wrung the worn fabric of his old scarf, the one Roppi had made for him all those years ago. The sight of it weighed heavy in Roppi's heart, leaving a painful ache in the memories wake. Sniffling through the tears no doubt brimming the taller man’s eyes, Tsuki spoke through the bodily trembles. “I-I'm sorry,” Roppi's expressions darkened at the unnecessary apology. Berating himself for being the source of Tsukishima’s unwarranted guilt. Dread filled the void of emotion gapping through him as his gaze caught attention on the red-stained eyes welling with tears. “But I… I can't do that.”

 

Trepidation quickly got engulfed by irritation, and Roppi wanted nothing more than to scream at Tsuki until he made him leave. But he acquiesced to the situation, knowing that if he makes a scene in the hospital they would definitely prolong his stay. Acting out could lead to many unnecessary repercussions, and he would rather not be subdued to the bed for bad behavior.

 

So instead, he sighed, moving to swing his legs off the edge of the bed. If he couldn't be completely alone, he'd make due for the faux isolation of the restroom for the time being. Tsuki stepped close with his hands outreached and expression confused and concerned. “Wh-what’s wrong?” Roppi dismissed his worry with a glare before hissing his harmless intentions. Tsuki seemed perplexed as to not aiding in helping Roppi stand, but didn't protest against his wishes. Roppi got up with minimal ease, nothing worth needing assistance, the ache wasn't anything he wasn't used to already. Once he was in the bathroom he locked the door behind him slowly as to not alert the other. Not that Tsukishima couldn't break it down, but as always the lock was reassuring nonetheless.

 

Finally, in the dismal security of solitude with his back pressed against the support of the door staring up at the harsh illumination of the fluorescent light, Roppi searched for something to feel. He should be feeling something, right? Disappointed, angry, maybe, but instead all he feels is more of the same empty nothing. He knows it won't last long, eventually, the vacuity will abruptly shift and the all-encroaching sadness will consume him when he least expects it. A shaky exhale followed those thoughts. He hates the apprehension waiting for an emotional upheaval brought, he just wanted to get it over with. He wanted all of this to be over and done with, but it's not.

 

He’s still here.

 

His fingers touched the edge of his bandaged right arm, flicking his fingernails along the medical grade tape. Looking down, he slowly started to peel it. The scent of blood twitches his nose at the contact, but he doesn’t avert his eyes from the harsh vividness of the red carved into him. Blue stitches line neatly along the largest parallel gash tracking his wrist, 18 in total. It looks unnatural. Feels even more out of body as his fingers dazedly stroke along the sides of the cut.

 

Had it been a mistake? It was obviously a failure, but if he had succeeded would it still be considered a mistake? No, he doesn't think he would think that. Doesn't think he'd consider much of anything right now if he hadn't woken up. If he had only gone deeper he wouldn't have to be here right now, stuck in the suffocation of another's love and care—

 

Three pounds against the door behind his back startled him, causing him to hiss and hurriedly wrap up the proof of his suicidal behavior.

 

“Orihara-San are you okay in there?” It wasn't Tsuki's voice, probably just a doctor than. Tugging the tape back in place, and sighing back into himself, he opened the door. The doctor looked down at him in mild surprise, caution visible in his body language as Roppi came out into the heavy atmosphere of the small box of a hospital room. “If you'd please sit down, I'd like to do one more check on your wounds before the evaluators come in.”

 

As he walked to sit back on the bed, Roppi turned a quizzical look at Tsuki at the mention of evaluations. He knew his medical history was a complex report, but he didn't think he could endure the clinical poking and prodding of psychological evaluations right now. However, Tsukishima didn't acknowledge him, merely bit his lip and turned away as the doctor carefully unraveled his left wrist. Roppi hadn't gotten the chance to look at the number he did on that one, but once he looked down he understood Tsuki’s response. Eyes unphased by the mutilated lacerations climbing the expanse of his forearm, he did quite the number on himself but he could only feel indifference at their presence on his skin. The doctor cleaned and sprayed something that stung horribly on his wrists before deeming them fully examined. But Roppi had the distrustful feeling that he was simply checking if Roppi had done any more damage to himself during his two minutes of being left unmonitored.

 

As the doctor began to collect his things, Tsuki broke the silence the had befallen them, voicing his concerns for him despite their fight. “How long… how long will they take to heal?” Roppi stayed quiet as the doctor informed Tsuki useless information he already knew. Unfortunately, this wasn't their first time in this predicament. Hospital rooms, gauzed wrists, and unresolved fights were but a common occurrence in what has become their life. Hachimenroppi had never been so close to death before, but injuries like these were not unfamiliar to him at this point. As they should be for Tsuki either, but he supposed from the other’s perspective this must all be too much to bear.

 

Once Tsuki is satisfied with whatever non-essential nonsense the doctor spouted at him in a distant form of comfort, he left with an awkward look of condolences.

 

“You signed off on a psychological evaluation?” He asked, incredulity scoffing under the tone of his voice. Finally, he stared directly into the other’s slightly widened eyes, searching for the usual signs of emotion that linger too long on Tsukishima's face. “You know they're never gonna let me leave after that, right?” Roppi hadn’t wanted to spit that out as harshly as that, but he couldn’t help but let the building frustration in him bubble up to the surface. Besides, he was right. This would be his third time in the hospital for attempted suicide, and it wasn’t likely he would be allowed to be released even if Tsukishima hadn’t signed for it. The reality of it ran rabid inside him, with the bitter taste of fear spreading to accompany the sour palette of regret on his tongue.

 

“Maybe, that's for the best, Roppi.”

 

His eyes never left Tsukishima’s as honesty fell from his lips as naturally as it always had, the sound of it weighing heavy in the room and threatening to suffocate Roppi if it wasn’t for the terrified intake of air burning deep in his lungs. Roppi knew he didn’t have the right to feel betrayed by the blondes decision, after all, he had put him through, it made sense that he couldn’t endure such a burden. He didn’t have the right, but nonetheless, he was furious.

 

“You gotta be fucking joking, you can't leave me here Tsuki!” Every word from his mouth was nothing but desperation, so he hid it with a murderous glare he didn’t really mean. However, by the darkening look of genuine hurt that struck Tsuki, he must’ve done a good enough job at redecorating the selfish plea.

 

“I'm-im not… I just… I want you to…” Fingers stroked vigorously through tangled blonde locks, disregarding the no doubt pain he’s inflicted on himself completely as he resumes with more determination than before. “T-to be okay again! I want you to get better, but you're not. So maybe… maybe some time away from me will make things easier for you.”

 

“No, no it'll make it worse, please, Tsuki. I just want to go home, I can't deal with this right now…” It came out rushed giving himself little time to overthink his reaction to the structured indifference he so often adorns and in the actual shape of a plea this time.

 

His begging only receives the pull of enraged eyebrows and the shift of unfamiliar tension against Tsuki’s jawline. Looking down and away from the angry vermillion glaring at him, he watches the quick movement of the others palm press flat against his side as he began speaking. “Why can't you understand… you almost  _ died _ , Roppi!” Tsukishima lets the words hang in the air, and it manifests like poison in the room. The intonation echoed and ebbed to an empty pain that hurt more than usual, his hands clutching apprehensively along the stiff linens as if to hold him steady. “I almost lost you.” Roppi couldn’t repress the wince of too much emotion at the statement, it made him feel sick with self-loathing that he couldn’t stand to avoid the others heartfelt attention that had been burning into him.

 

He shouldn’t have looked.

 

With tears long since dyed his scleras raw with overwhelming sadness streaming down his cheeks and the pure devastation focusing into his eyes, Tsukishima released years of built up emotional trauma that he couldn’t conceal any longer. “You can't just-just do something like that and expect things to go back to the way things were.” His voice was nothing but a sobbing mess, but despite that Hachimenroppi understood him perfectly clear no matter how much he wishes he couldn’t.

 

Just silence, he just wanted this to stop. It was all too much too soon and it only made him regret ever waking up.  

 

“You need  _ help _ and obviously I can't give it to you.”

 

“If you had just let me die then none of that would be a problem!” Mouth moving faster than his overbearing thoughts, the truth ripped itself from him. Abandoning him to bare himself vulnerable in the wake of its destruction, he wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted Tsukishima to wipe the shock from his expression because he  _ knows better _ than to not expect this. However, Tsuki stands stunned still for the tantalizingly painful eternity of a minute before it cleaned the surprise from his face into the worse look of misunderstanding.

 

“How… how could you say that..? I could never just let you…”The blonde’s words fade into muffled whimpers as he fought desperately to contain his crumbling composure, and for a moment it all slips out into a gasping sob, but he regathers his despair just as quickly as it’d fallen from his grasp. “You-you're just lashing out— be-because you're scared, but it'll be okay, Roppi, I promise!” He said such meaningless words with so much hope and belief, but its only accomplishment was to kindle anger to bite along his voice.

 

“Stop  _ saying that! _ Because, no, no matter how much you swear or promise you  _ can’t  _ make any of this go away!” Roppi yelled, feeling it all consume him until he could barely feel himself anymore, trapped within his own hallow ire. Hand immediately attacking his pulsing temple in a feeble attempt to calm his fraying nerves, however, to no avail, instead, giving into the bite of his fingernails digging themselves into his skin.

 

He wanted this conversation to  _ stop _ .

 

“Because you won’t let me  _ help you _ ! You won’t let  _ anyone  _ help you!” Tsukishima stubbornly countered, merely pissing Roppi off more by the fact that he wasn’t completely wrong. Lips puckering into a vicious frown, his eyes shifted into an impenetrable fury behind the shadows of his eyes as his arms crossed over his chest. Roppi goes silent, completely done with the argument, ridiculous that he had even let this conversation live on this long. This is what he gets for not preparing for this beforehand, he should’ve known somehow, despite his planning, Tsukishima would miraculously save him  _ once again _ ; fuck, he was so goddamn stupid.

 

Tsuki notices his withdrawal. Hachimenroppi, completely too entrapped into his own self-loathing perpetual thoughts and hadn’t bothered with returning another aggressive response, left Tsuki to watch him as his mental competence collapsed on itself from the emotional upheaval Roppi refused to give into. Tsuki instantly reacts, so familiar to Roppi’s every motion. “No, no no no… don’t shut me out, please Roppi, we  _ need _ to talk about this.” He steps in closer, with his feverish words, the sudden movement jerking a flinch from Roppi at his advancing.

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

That look that makes Tsukishima want to fall to his knee and weep, spread along the contorted angles of his lover’s expression. Hesitating, always so apprehensively, he resumed, with careful steps Tsuki cautiously sits next to Roppi, offering a comforting presence beside him he felt he no longer—no, never deserved. Averting himself from the trepidation of the situation, gaze staring off at a wall to ignore the other. Tsuki watched as Roppi’s body language receded into himself, closing him off completely. Tsukishima knew he wouldn’t be able to pull the other out of this, not if it’s as bad as he knows it to be. As much as Hachimenroppi scrambled to hide it, Tsuki could see through the fragmented facade and into the mess so futilely dismissed. Unfortunately, as clearly as he can see through him, he’s still so uncertain of all that ails him. He doesn’t know, doesn’t understand, and no matter how badly he needs to help Roppi, he knows that he can’t.

 

“I-I can’t—“

 

_ I can’t do this. _

 


	3. Selfish

The dense air of the hospital waiting room was near suffocating as he stared off without focus at a wall clock that he could just barely make out the hands of, watching it in the anxious disquietude that had overcome him the moment he was asked to leave Hachimenroppi’s room. It makes sense that a psychological evaluation would be done in privacy, but that didn’t make leaving the other alone with those prodding psychologists settle comfortably in him. Even as he was quietly ushered to the confines of the visitors' section, he couldn’t ignore the aching sensation that he should have requested to stay. Not that Hachimenroppi was in any mood to endure his presence for much longer, what with his outburst, but that didn’t conciliate Tsuki’s separation anxiety any.

 

Foot tapping anxiously, Tsukishima hurriedly stands in a moment of utter restlessness and goes to wander out of the waiting room to smoke a cigarette and calm his nerves. The unsteady trepidation begins to eat at him he’s desperate for just a second of peace to settle down some, but instead comes across an occupied smoking area. Awkwardly he sits away from them, however, the area isn’t large enough to gain proper distance to even be considered isolation. The group's proximity to his huddled position leaning against a wall allows him to hear their conversation annoyingly well. The chattering nurses unperturbed by his presence, or simply didn’t even notice him, continue without missing a beat in their gossiping. Tsukishima attempts to ignore them but to absolutely no avail.

 

A bit too aggressively, he lights his cigarette just as the dull roars of their cackling die down to giggling hums.

 

“Did you see that girl that’s in room 213? I heard she got some kind of chlamydia from her sister’s boyfriend, isn’t that scandalous!” A particularly loud statement, that Tsuki assumes was thrown out randomly in their back and forth blabbering as if this information was of dire importance that was deathly in need of ridiculing. He merely sighed a waft of smoke, promptly ignoring the overly animated gasps and crass comments that followed.

 

It was impossible for him to begin to understand what they saw so humorous in talking about people behind their backs as if the people they were yammering about didn’t have enough problems on their own, but to have staff judging you is just too cruel. Tsukishima’s teeth rolled lightly over the filter of his cigarette, threatening to bite down and grind it in a moments notice as his kindling irritation warned of overflow. Ignoring their defamation, he fought the surge of anger knowing nothing would come of it but giving them something else to talk about.

 

“Yeah, but what about that guy that’s in room 861,”

 

And with that simple utterance, his cynosure to their incessantly blatant malicious talk was immediate at the mention of Roppi’s room number. His movements stilled in their motion to retract his cigarette from between his lips, leaving it hanging in stun as his hand stayed frozen in front of him. He has to reel himself back to not give in to the urge to stare in their direction, shaking off the shock in an instance and honing in on his steadily climbing temper burning hot and ready in his veins. Because he knows the last thing he should do is make a scene right now, no matter how distraught, stressed and sleep deprived he knows himself to be. He can’t put Hachimenroppi through that embarrassment, not after their fight, not after that night and all the things he’s likely done to cause all this.

 

Slowly, he simmers, breathes deeply in and out and counts backward from ten until his cigarette goes out so he won’t have to waste it. But that didn’t make being unable to not listen any more tolerable.

 

“Apparently it's his second time being committed here for trying to kill himself, and I hear they’re not gonna let him go home this time.” Said the one that had so blatantly laughed at their previous topic. Tsukishima didn’t think he could endure hearing them laugh and make jabs about Roppi, not when the mere mention has he fingers trembling from rage already; nothing more than a giggle would have him tasting red and seeing blood, he knows that but there’s a morbid curiosity there too that’s keeping him here listening.

 

Groaning, the squeaky one began, he recognized her voice from one of the nurses that had come in several times to change out Roppi’s fluids while he was passed out. “Ugh, he should’ve just died then, I don’t wanna see some sad sack during my morning rounds, it’s depressing.”

 

“Oh my god, Nishisaki-san you’re terrible, haha!” the other women cooed and laughed, but Tsuki hastily gets up and storms away before another word could be said on the subject. Slamming the door hard enough to invoke several yelps from the garble of females on the other side, he nearly stomped his way down the hall. Mind racing into the threshold of frustrated fury, so completely consumed by the fact that he can’t do anything. No matter if he said anything to them or who he complained to, it wouldn’t change these sour feelings from drowning him from the inside out.

 

As he unthinkingly turned the corner of the corridor, his hand harshly brushed through his tangled mess of bangs, jostling them even more into disarray as his feet subconsciously brought him back in front of Roppi’s room. He hadn’t realized where he was going until his eyes lifted from their glare at the floor to lay sight on the foreboding stark characters of his lover’s nameplate. Standing there, his hand slid down from his forehead to fall into a tight fist at his side.  

 

There was no way to tell if the psychoanalysis people were still bothering Hachimenroppi or not, the doors were basically soundproof and the window was being covered by the curtain on the other side. Left unknowing, and drowning too deeply in his dread of seeing Roppi again, he took to pacing anxiously in front of the door.

 

Muscles all rigid from tension after what feels like hours of pacing, the doorknob clicked and turns, catching his muddled minds attention to the two doctors exiting in silence. He looks at them in expectation, but given their remorseful and perplexed expressions, he didn’t stand around to listen to their incessant apologies and the psychological jargon that comes with them explaining nonsense to him as a technicality. Dutifully he sidesteps out of the men’s way, moving to enter the quiet room as soon as there was enough distance between their leave and the doorway. As soon as they’re out of sight they’re as quickly out of mind, for Tsukishima stalls and stills before taking that last step to reveal himself from behind the curtain concealing the entrance.

 

Recalling that look of betrayal in the other’s eyes when he left, the sight was still vivid in his mind. How was he supposed to face Hachimenroppi after that? Hesitation felt bitter, but racing into the unknown would reprimand with far worse consequences. The ramifications of his decision to allow this all to take place reverberated with guilt in his head, throbbing the week long headache he’s still been unable to recover from.

 

How was he supposed to face Roppi now? He should’ve been thinking about that this entire time instead of mulling over what those crass nurses were going on about, it had been nonessential to anything other than pissing him off, but he let it get to him like always. And now, as he stood frozen in fear of what’s to come, he’d wished he’d focused his dismal energy on finding a way to resolve their quarrel or wording out the right apology. But there was no use in his hindsight, not when Tsukishima was already in the room and refused to be a coward and simply walk away. So, forcing a smile on his face and untying the knot of his brows, he stepped forward into the pale light that had him blinded for a moment before his eyes adjusted. His gaze landed on Roppi’s back, his pallor skin peeking through the ties connecting and holding his unflattering gown together. Tsukishima’s encroaching presences went without reaction, going completely ignored as he slowly walked up to the foot of the hospital bed in wait or the other’s attention.

 

“That didn’t take you long.” That stagnant voice fell from the flatline of Roppi’s mouth, but his expression remained stolid as if he hadn’t spoken at all. Staring out to the jaded blue of the city sky, eyes pinched closer together from the shine of the sun, however, the light didn’t do anything to brighten the darkness in those irises. Gaze shifting, head-turning marginally to stare recognition in the blonde’s general direction without meeting his eyes. “I thought for sure you wouldn’t come back so soon.” Not a trace of readable emotions from the drawn-out monotonous of his voice.

 

Tsuki’s brows furrowed at that, smile getting slack before falling to the reality of his true feelings, a rough exhale huffed passed his lips without much thought as he stepped in closer, fingers gripping the plastic of the hospital bed frame with enough force to hear an audible creaking. “I told you… I’m not leaving.” Shoulders sagging, he sighed, all the tension in him suddenly unwinding to the heavyweight that had slowly been pulling him apart. Slowly sitting down beside Roppi, he arched over himself, laying his head in his hands from the sheer exhaustion running through him. “I’m just… I’m just so tired, Roppi.” He didn’t dare look up, not when the fleeting looks of hurt might linger on his face. At least this way, eyes averted to the stark white tiles, he can hide from the truth like the coward he is.

 

“I know you are,” Catching Tsuki’s purposefully avoidant attention, his hand shifted to uncover his eyes while keeping them cast in a shadow from his bangs. Roppi wasn’t looking at him either, his sights still locked on the blinding gleam of the sun in his eyes. Softly, his they closed and the stone stoicism became transparent in an instant with the bow of thin brows and the subtle shadow of a frown.  “I am too,” Roppi confessed, the utterance exposing honestly on the wake of the other’s face as Tsuki finally takes notice of the harsh red on the skin around bloodshot eyes. “I’m… I’m so sorry, I-I just want it to stop, but…” Hachimenroppi avowals, distant eyes cast in a glassy reflection with lashes violently attempting to rid them of tears, however, each trembling breath that sniffed like the start of a sob gave evidence to his futile efforts. “I just keep hurting you.”

 

Tsukishima doesn’t know how to properly respond to that, he doesn’t think there are words for the amount of pain he’s watching the other so desperately conceal, so he allows the room to fall into a disruptive silence that leaves nothing but the aching pain to reach out and say anything at all even if he has no words to speak. That apology alone was enough to understand that Hachimenroppi’s mind hasn't changed about his attempt if anything only made his intentions clearer. Tsukishima’s fingers laced through his hair, before bringing his head back up to acknowledge Roppi’s adamant avoidance.

 

It was all so frustrating, every time he thought he was getting closer to understanding this sadness that plagues his lover, Roppi merely pulled away, and right now it feels as if he’s completely out of sight. The vague thought of reaching out a comforting hand had him thoughtlessly reaching across the distance between them. Only in his realization of his actions did he hesitate briefly, but the trembling frame in his wake urged him onward. Gently, as to not garner alarm, the palm of his hand met against Roppi’s exposed nape. The hint of touch alone gained a gasp in response that sighed into the ease of an inhale. Tsukishima remained still and unsure, timidly watching in the expectancy of rejection that often follows his insecure tries at physical comfort.

 

The slight shift of Hachimenroppi’s hand against the sheets caused his attention to slip marginally; the tickling sensation of hair climbing the length of his arm before suddenly the quick press of a body all but fell into him. Tsukishima’s arms couldn’t embrace the other fast enough, not when just the mere proximity of the other against him felt like it could heal all the ache inside him if they were to remain like this forever. Roppi’s head buries itself against his chest, arms wrapping around Tsukishima’s waist with a desperation that was so rarely revealed. Tells of tears soaked into his dress shirt, however, his distressed lover remained completely silent, nothing but the feel of wetness and the shaking wracking the body held against him.

 

Distraught hands cling for dear life to the fabric of his shirt, attempting to pull him in closer to suffocate the noiseless weeping Tsukishima could feel pouring into him. The display of such grave anguish left a chilling ache to hallow him out.

 

Despite the weight of despair, a part of him couldn’t help but revel in the feel of having this subtle warmth in his arms.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh i just needed to get this chapter outta my face so that I could move on to more exciting bits of this story, so apologies if it's a little dry :T


End file.
